


Deepest and Darkest Desire

by FuntasticFrost



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Coda, Episode: s11e13 Love Hurts, M/M, Oblivious Dean, POV Dean Winchester, POV Third Person Limited, Present Tense, Qareen is Genderqueer, Sam Knows, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 03:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6035914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuntasticFrost/pseuds/FuntasticFrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is greeted by neither his brother, Bach, nor Simpson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deepest and Darkest Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Short, but you'll get the point: I don't appreciate the writers forcing Dean/Amara down our throats.   
> (For the record, I feel like I would appreciate her more if she was just a badass female antagonist instead of a love interest).

Dean is searching for a heart when he hears the stairs creak. The plastic tarp behind him shifts: he tenses. 

"Find anything?" he asks and spins around, hoping to see Sam. 

He is greeted by neither his brother, Bach, nor Simpson.

"Cas?" 

Dean is surprised, caught off guard. Why is Cas here? How did he even know where to find them? Did Sam call him? Dean hasn’t talked to Cas in a week. He recalls their previous encounter: rolled sleeves, messy hair, and a lack of personal space. They were honest with each other; they opened up about their shortcomings and Dean confessed his connection with Amara… he was disappointed when the conversation ended. 

Cas smiles a little, his eyes sparkling. He steps closer. "Hello, Dean." 

"What are you doin' here?" Dean questions, furrowing his eyebrows, bewildered. The angel’s lips curve upwards; he doesn’t answer the question. “Did you figure out how to stop The Darkness?” Amara is Castiel’s current focus; his determination to defeat her is borderline obsessive. Dean doesn’t object: he wants The Darkness gone before she can further manipulate him. The only reason Cas would contact him would be to inform him of how to destroy her. 

“I am here for you, Dean.” Castiel’s gravelly voice is soft, gentle. He’s wearing his trench coat again, unlike the last time they met. Cas tilts his head to the side and squints his baby blues. “Don’t you know I’ll always come for you?” 

Of course he knows. Cas is always watching over him. Whenever Dean wakes up screaming, his angel chases the nightmares away and eases him back to sleep. 

_ “You’re alright.” _

Dean scrutinizes the angel standing before him, analyzing his bright smile, and recalls those nights: 

_ “You’re safe.” _

He remembers the warm feelings that swelled in his chest whenever Cas wrapped his arms around him --

_ “I’m right here.” _

\-- and is struck by a realization. 

"You're not... you're not Cas." Dean stumbles backwards, hitting the wall, and chokes on his own spit.

Blue eyes glow with adoration and undying affection. "Does that matter? I love you."

Dean’s infinite shock transforms into malice. “You don’t know shit about love,  _ Qareen _ .”

The angelic impostor pauses, startled by Dean’s knowledge of their true identity. The hunter glances towards the knife lying on the table and inches towards the weapon. Qareen notices and mirrors his movements, once again adorning an amicable mask. 

“I know you, Dean Winchester. Your heart is cloaked in shame.” 

He scoffs, even though the words ring with truth. He would’ve anticipated Cas being his deepest desire if he wasn’t embarrassed. He would’ve came to terms with his feelings if he hadn’t repressed them. 

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Dean. Love is a beautiful thing,” Qareen patronizes. Castiel’s voice sounds wrong; he can’t stand the sound. 

“Shut up,” he growls, lunging for the knife. His fingers curl around the handle and he aims for Qareen’s heart. The monster snatches his wrist and twists his arm; Dean cries out and drops the knife. Fake Cas pouts, mocking: “You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”

“You’re a crappy imitation of him,” Dean spits. He grunts and kicks the creature away, dodging a punch though the torso. Qareen blasts a hole through the drywall where Dean’s chest used to be. The hunter dives to the floor and grabs for the knife, twisting around and slashing Qareen’s face before they can punch him. The creature hisses and scalding liquid drips onto Dean’s face. He scrambles back, but Qareen yanks on his foot, tugging him underneath them. The hunter tries to stab again, but the creature knocks the weapon out of his grip. 

Qareen wraps a hand around his throat and pins him to the floor. “You know you can’t resist. Just give up.”

Dean tugs at stone fingers and gazes into Castiel’s eyes. The fact that Qareen is dressed as Cas will just makes his death much more agonizing. The blank stare and raised fist remind him of every time Cas hurt him, every time the angel healed his wounds. 

A long list of Cas-themed regrets surface in Dean’s mind as Qareen moves to rip out his heart. 

Except they don’t. 

Qareen’s mouth releases a silent shriek as their body collapses in on themself. Dean squeezes his eyes shut as Castiel’s face twists into a gruesome deformity, unable to watch as the image of his friend is disfigured. Light glows bright and the inside of his eyelids turn red. The weight holding him down vanishes and he cracks his eyes open. 

Qareen is gone. Sam must’ve stabbed their heart. 

Dean sighs and climbs to his feet, legs wobbly. He’s growing too damn old for this. He leans on the table and breathes, heavy and deep, trying to analyze  _ what the fuck just happened. _

“You okay?” Dean lifts his head. Sam has appeared, his brow creased in mild concern. His eyes scan the room and note the various fist sized holes. 

“Yeah,” Dean lies, straightening himself. He can reevaluate his life later, when his younger brother isn’t around. 

“Which one?”

Dean’s brain still isn’t functioning properly; he doesn’t understand the question: “What?”

“Bach or Simpson? Who was it?” Sam asks. 

Dean attempts to remain passive, but he’s trembling: he’s freaked out. Sam notices. Should he tell the truth? Rashly, idiotically, Dean answers: “Neither. It was… it was fuckin’ Cas.  _ Cas.” _

Sam is unfazed by the news. “You sound surprised.”

“You’re  _ not?”  _ Dean sputters, not expecting his brother’s reaction to be so damn calm. 

Sam doesn’t blink. “Dean, it’s blatantly obvious. You two have been in love for years.”

_ “Love?” _

Sam’s expression is dead serious. “You should tell him. Call him, work your stuff out -- ”

“Sam,” Dean interjects; the discussion is humiliating. The last thing he wants to do is talk about  _ this  _ with Sam, who apparently knew  _ the whole fuckin’ time.  _ He claims to have been aware of the subliminal  _ thing _ between Dean and Cas, for  _ years, _ while Dean hid in the dark. 

“-- before I do, because I don’t think I can put up with your…  _ tension _ or whatever, any longer.” Sam finishes dishing out romantic advice and pats his brother on the back, exiting the basement. Dean lingers. The light bulb swinging from the ceiling starts to flicker. 

He slips his hand into his pocket and rubs his thumb against his phone. Maybe he  _ should _ call Cas. 

Maybe he will. 

Dean spins around and marches up the stairs. Maybe later. For now, he’ll remain a coward. 

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism and positive feedback is greatly appreciated! Please comment below!


End file.
